


Break a Heart, Break Mine (It's Yours, It's Yours)

by dubstavi



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Avengers Family, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers (2012), Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Deaf Clint Barton, Everyone Needs A Hug, M/M, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Slow Burn, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-02-22 10:12:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13164771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dubstavi/pseuds/dubstavi
Summary: After the Battle of New York, the Avengers scattered.  Barton to be evaluated by SHIELD, Romanov back into the field, Stark to tinker with his suits, Rogers to figure out where he fits in the new century, Thor back to Asgard, and Banner to re-center himself in India.  The Hydra elements within SHIELD have other ideas; why let a valuable asset like the Hulk go free?Ultimately though, this is a love story between an archer and a physicist.





	1. Aftermath of Battle

**Author's Note:**

> I recently fell in love with the (smallish) Clint/Bruce ship and was inspired to write my own take. However, I actually kind of like Clint with his family on the farm in Age of Ultron, so I decided to go with diverging from canon after the first Avengers movie. Some canon elements from later in the timeline make an appearance, like the fact that Hydra is hiding within SHIELD and that Peggy Carter has Alzheimer's, but I'm picking and choosing what to keep.
> 
> The tags and rating are subject to change. I do not own any of the characters. I also take full responsibility for any typos or mistakes; I'm the only one who has read it.
> 
> This is my first fic, so I'm not really even expecting anyone to read it, but if you do please leave a comment or kudos! 
> 
> The title is from a Walk the Moon song.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the events of the Battle of Manhattan, the Avengers have scattered. Months later, they start drifting back together, but where is Bruce?

** Chapter 1: Aftermath of Battle **

For a brief moment in time, after the events of the Battle of Manhattan, Bruce truly thought things were turning around. The team – _his_ team – seemed to accept him _and_ the Other Guy.  He wasn’t the only one with “red in his ledger,” as Romanov liked to put it.  He thought maybe he could help people both as himself and his…bigger half. 

Tony had almost convinced him that he could make it work.  After Thor returned to Asgard with Loki and the Tesseract in tow, he had returned to New York City, to Stark Tower.  Tony was rebranding it Avengers Tower and offered him both a place to live and lab space and at first, it seemed like it was going smoothly.  But he found that the construction in the Tower put him on edge in a way he hadn’t expected.  Coupled with the amount of damage the Other Guy had caused, even if this time he’d been saving people, the noise of rebuilding was wreaking havoc on his control.  He knew he needed a break from the city, but for the first time in a long time, he was hopeful.  After some time away to center himself, he felt confident he would be able to return once the construction was completed.

Now all he had to do was break the news to Tony.

“You’re coming back though, right?” Tony’s voice took on a petulant tone.

“I-“ Bruce began.

“Because I’ve put a lot of time and effort into building your lab.  Blood, sweat, and tears have all gone into it.” Tony poked Bruce in the chest with a finger to emphasize his point.

“Well I-“ Bruce tried.

“Okay okay, Jolly Green Giant, the bodily fluids weren’t mine, but the design and funding is.” Tony had stopped poking him and gone back to waving his arms instead.

“If you’d just –“ Huffing in irritation, Bruce gave answering another shot.

“I mean if you’re just going to abandon me, I would never have joined you in Science Matrimony and built you your own suite of – “

“TONY!” Bruce snapped, finally interrupting.

“What?” Tony looked surprised at the interruption.

“If you’d let me get a word in edgewise…?” Bruce asked mildly.

Tony conceded with a nod.

“Yes, I’m planning to come back.  It’s just that all of the rebuilding efforts have the Other Guy feeling…uneasy, so I’m going to go back to India for a little, settle the both of us down a bit, and then when all the construction is finished, I’ll come back.” Bruce explained.

Tony squinted at him suspiciously. “This isn’t a ploy to confuse me so you can do another runner, is it? Because JARVIS and I will find you.”

“I’ll check my email once a week, on Mondays.  When the Tower is done, send me an email and I’ll come back.” Bruce promised.

“I’m not going to take no for an answer.  So don’t go changing your mind while you’re on your Eat Pray Love quest.  If you don’t come back right away when I tell you it’s done, you’ll have only yourself to blame for my decorating your suite.  I’ll make it the worst design you’ve ever seen – stripes and plaids in puce and mauve and orange, just truly heinous.  That will be your punishment for dragging your feet.”

Bruce sighed, rolling his eyes, then held out his hand. “Deal.”

Tony shook it, stating “Verbal contracts are binding in the state of New York, just fyi.  And JARVIS will have a record.”

*

Bruce should have known that SHIELD wasn’t going to let him leave the country.  Less than five minutes after he left the Tower, a black SUV pulled up next to him.  The back window was rolled down and an older man he’d never seen before peered out at him.

“Doctor Banner.  Would you like to get in the car?”

“Doesn’t look like I have much of a choice.” Bruce retorted, getting in without argument.

“Alexander Pierce.” The man introduced himself. “I’m the Secretary of the World Security Council.”

“The what?”

“We’re in charge of SHIELD.”

“Ah.  What’s this about, Mr. Pierce?”

“Well Doctor Banner, it seems as though you’re about to flee the country.”

Bruce huffed out a perplexed breath.  “Flee?  I’m just getting out of the city during construction…it seems to bother the Other Guy.  I told Stark where I was going – he knows how to reach me.”

“So all you need is a place to calm down?” Pierce raised an eyebrow. “SHIELD can provide that “

“With all due respect, Mr. Pierce – “ Bruce was cut off by a sudden stinging sensation in this neck…did the seat belt just bite him?  He shook his head to clear away the strange notion, but as he did a ringing started in his ears.  The ringing noise started to increase and his vision went blurry.  Unlike normal, the Other Guy was eerily silent as he struggled to regain his wits.

 _That’s odd_. He thought dazedly, _I always thought his silence would be comforting, not terrifying_.

Aloud, he could only force out a single, choked “What - ?”

“Don’t worry Doctor, we’re just looking out for your well-being.” Pierce assured him.

It was the last thing he heard for a long, long time.

 

***

Clint had been confined to base for what felt like years.  He had been poked and prodded within an inch of his life.  He had multiple meetings with every single psychiatrist in SHEILD’s employ.  While he wasn’t the picture of mental stability, he was pronounced clear of Loki’s influence.  That didn’t change the fact that he could count the number of agents who trusted him on one hand and still have fingers left over.  Nat, Fury, Hill. 

He managed to keep up an indifferent façade, most likely because Nat had been sent out on a mission pretty much the second they finished eating their shawarma.

Clint wasn’t stupid, even if he _had_ dropped out of school to join the circus.  He knew he was still way too fucked up about Loki to be mission ready.  He hadn’t even laid a finger on his bow since the Battle – another thing that would not have gone unnoticed if Nat were around. 

He looked terrible.  He’d lost weight he didn’t have to lose, he couldn’t sleep, and if he even thought about picking up a weapon, he got the shakes so bad he had to sit down.  So what the fuck did his doctor think he was doing, clearing him for duty?

He wasn’t too proud to admit to himself that he didn’t think he could survive without SHIELD.  But he also couldn’t ignore the feeling of terror he got any time he thought about returning to the field.

Since Phil…his new superior officer was Sitwell.  He apparently had Sitwell convinced of both his sanity and his readiness, because he was told to report to the range in 2 days.

His normal coping mechanism of shooting his bow as meditation was obviously out; he had taken to pushing himself on the treadmill instead, running so hard and for so long that the exhaustion would let him sleep for a few hours before the nightmares came.

*

That night, as per usual, once he woke from Loki filled dreams, he felt like his room was too exposed and he retreated into the vents above, wearing his oldest, cuddliest hoodie.  Most nights, he could huddle right above his bed and get in a few more cat naps, but on nights like tonight, nervous energy drove him to explore.

He found himself above a room filled with a bank of tv screens.  Glancing down to check that no one had noticed he was there, he caught a glimpse of what they were watching.  It was someone’s apartment; and that person was clearly asleep on the couch, cocooned in blankets.  He couldn’t tell who it was because they were facing into the couch, but each monitor had a feed with a different angle on the bedroom, living room, or kitchen.  The only room free from monitoring appeared to be the bathroom. 

That was odd. Not that SHIELD was doing surveillance on somebody, but that they were hiding it in what amounted to a spare janitorial closet.  He started paying attention to the two men monitoring the feeds.

“-since the last incident.  The gas appears to be working as a preventative measure to keep him from turning all the way.” The taller man was saying.

“Yeah, it works better than the injection.  When they brought him in, I thought he was a corpse – apparently it was too big of a dose.” The other replied.

“This job is a lot less exciting than I was expecting.” The first man sighed.  “I’ve never watched a more boring mark.  All he does is sit around and read.”

The second man grunted in agreement and their conversation turned into a discussion of the Mets chances this season.

Clint frowned.  It sounded like SHIELD was, what, drugging someone to keep them in line?  This would require more investigation, but later when he wasn’t quite so tired.  He decided to mosey back towards his own room to catch a cat nap.

*

Clint woke abruptly, feeling a crawling sensation on the back of his neck, indicating he was being watched.  Natasha Romanov was sitting cross-legged in the vent, staring at him.

“Nat! You’re back!” Clint cried.  He could tell by the minute movement of her eyebrows that his jovial greeting has surprised both of them.

“Yeah, you’re my first stop – after showering and sleep.  I hear you’ve been cleared for duty.”

“Uh, yeah.” Clint rubbed at the back of his neck uncomfortably.  “I’m supposed to retake my qualifying exam tomorrow.”

Nat’s gaze remained steady as she asked “When is the last time you picked up your bow?”

Clint opened his mouth to gloss over the truth, but closed it again as he glanced down at his hands.  Nat would know.  She always knew.  He was half convinced she was psychic.  He sighed, trying to figure out what to say, how to explain that he just…couldn’t, but when he met her eyes, he realized she already knew.

“I didn’t want to go on the mission.” That was Nat Speak for _I’m so sorry I haven’t been here for you._ Clint was fluent in Nat Speak the same way that she was fluent in his body language.

“I know.” He replied. The hunch of his shoulders said _They kept us apart on purpose because they knew you wouldn’t like the methods they used to make sure Loki was out of my head for good._

“I hate having to break in new back up.” _They sent along a babysitter to make sure I didn’t double back._

“How many of ‘em did you make cry?” _I know you haven’t been okay either._

“Only four.  I’m slipping.” _I’m more worried about you.  You look terrible – you haven’t been taking care of yourself._

“You? Never.” _I’m glad you’re back._

“Come on.  Let’s get out of this metal death trap and order some Chinese.” _Me too._

An hour later, they were leaning against each other on his couch watching the Great British Baking Show and chowing down on kung pow chicken.  Clint could feel his body start to relax the second her familiar weight pressed up along his left side.  The friendship between the two had always been full of a platonic physicality.  They were both starved for that sort of expression of affection as children and found both reassurance and relief from the contact.  It led people to make all sorts of assumptions about their relationship and they were both happy to encourage the misconception most of the time.

Clint woke up hours later after the first dreamless sleep he’d had since the Battle with his head on Nat’s knee and her hand on his forehead.  She had slipped down so that her own head was propped up on the arm of the couch.  As soon as she felt him stir, her eyes popped open.  “Thanks.” He told her quietly.

Her nod in response was Nat Speak for _You’ve done the same for me._ “Stark invited us to check out his renovated Tower later today.  There are supposed to be some great training facilities if you’re interested.” _If you want to try out your bow without SHIELD watching, we can go there._

He shrugged.  “If you want.” _Yes please._

***

Tony Stark stood in front of a well-maintained brick building in a quiet neighborhood just outside of Washington, DC, and he was hesitating.  Tony was not someone who hesitates.  Normally, he rushed in halfcocked and improvised, but today he was feeling uncertain.  He wasn’t sure exactly what kind of situation he was about to encounter and after the Battle of Manhattan, he didn’t like uncertainty.  He swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and swaggered through the door.  The man he was coming to see was seated on a bench just inside the door, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

“Yo, Rogers.  How is the 21st century treating you?  Have you figured out how a microwave works – hey, uh, are you alright? You look like someone pissed in your Wheaties.”

Steve Rogers’ head had snapped up the second Tony began speaking and he looked _awful_.  His eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot, with dark circles indicating his trouble sleeping, lending him the air of a racoon that had recently been smoking pot.  It was clear that he had recently been crying and his face looked gaunt.  For all his bulk, he seemed…small.  He looked befuddled to find Tony in front of him and it took him a second before he straightened and stood.  “Mr. Stark.”

“Really Capsicle?  I think we can dispense with the formalities since we stopped an alien invasion together.” 

Rogers sighed.  “Now isn’t a great time, Tony.”  The forlorn look on his face made him look like a kicked puppy.  Well shit.

Tony’s bored expression softened and he took off his sunglasses.  His voice was unusually gentle as he asked “Aunt Peggy’s having a bad day today?”

Rogers’ eyes widened so much it was almost comical. It only took a second for his brain to connect the dots and he replied “I-I should have realized…I mean, why wouldn’t you…That is, Howard was Peggy’s friend too and it makes sense that…well that you would know her.  I just…” he trailed off.

“You missed a lot.” Tony replied bluntly.

“Bit of an understatement.” Rogers’ mouth twisted into a wry grin.  It was more of a grimace really, and it didn’t look right on his stupid perfect golden retriever face.

“Excuse me, but I am a _Master_ of understatement, thank you.” Tony retorted.  “It isn’t surprising that you wouldn’t think of it.  I mean, your whole…” Tony waved his hands in front of Rogers, “situation is unprecedented.  Plus it has been pointed out to me that I’ve been a bit of a dick to you.  Granted, that doesn’t make you special – I’m a bit of a dick to everyone.  It’s just perhaps I’ve been unfair to you, specifically.”

Rogers look of surprise intensified to the point where he actually had to sit back down.  He opened his mouth to speak and closed it again.  Shaking his head, he finally managed, “Who, uh, who told you that?”

Tony raised an eyebrow, counting them out on his fingers. “Let’s see, Pepper, Happy, Director Eyepatch didn’t say it out loud, but I could tell he was thinking it, Romanov’s eyebrows certainly held some judgement, if Thor understood what was going on I’m sure I would have gotten a Shakespearean soliloquy on my behavior, and even Barton fresh from having an alien god crawling through his brain had a few choice words for my treatment of a national icon, but he was pretty close to Coulson and…well.  Aunt Peggy herself was none too pleased.  She called me last week, did you know?” He didn’t wait for an answer.  “But Bruce is the reason I came.”

“Doctor Banner?  I…didn’t even think he liked me much.” Rogers’ face was going to stick like that if he didn’t change his expression from Surprised Labradoodle soon.

“Remember that day you came into the lab?  Right before Thor took Loki back to Asgard, when we had all been living in the Tower?” Tony asked.

“Uh, yeah…I came to apologize to you.  For the things I said under the influence of Loki’s staff.” Surprised Labradoodle was gone and Earnest Golden Retriever had taken its place.

“And instead of graciously accepting said apology and reciprocating, I doubled down on what I had said to you – “

Rogers interrupted “That everything special about me came out of a bottle.  Yeah, I remember.” Oh god, Earnest Golder Retriever morphed into Sad Poodle.

“Uh, yeah, well that was, uh, harsh.  And not true, I’ve heard all the pre-serum Rogers stories from Aunt Peggy, so...  Would it help if I told you that I hadn’t slept in three days at that point?  It’s…not really an excuse, I know, but it is the truth.” Tony had not felt this uncomfortable during a conversation in years.  Stupid Captain America and his stupid puppy dog eyes…

“But what does that have to do with Doctor Banner?  I mean, I know he was in the lab that day, but he didn’t say anything.”

“He may not have said anything to you.  But he hit me with some hard truths after you broke my door.”

***

_Rogers had slammed the door of the lab so hard when he left that one of the hinges broke.  Bruce waited for a few minutes and then said quietly, “You do realize that he isn’t Captain America, right?”_

_Tony narrowed his eyes. “Are you high right now?  I_ knew _it!  I knew your mellow attitude came from a big bag of weed!  And you didn’t offer me any?  That’s just rude, Bruce.  I let you live here rent free, the least you could do is share your pot with me.”_

_Bruce rolled his eyes “I mean that we grew up hearing about Captain America, wearing Captain America merchandise, reading Captain America comic books, watching Captain America biopics, putting up Captain America posters.  You even more so than most kids – your dad actually knew the guy.  His legend has been built up for 70 years.  That’s 70 years’ worth of stories, being told and retold and exaggerated and added to, all of which shape your perception of who Captain America is.”_

_“I know who Captain America is – the self-righteous judgmental grandpa that just broke my door.”_

_Bruce smile didn’t reach his eyes.  “No._ Steve Rogers _just broke your door.  And I don’t think anyone alive today actually knows him.  That’s my point, Tony.  I realize his birthdate means he’s old enough to be both our grandfathers…but really, he’s not even 30 years old.  He crashed a plane into the ocean expecting to die for his country and instead woke up in a world where every single person he ever even_ met _is either dead or in a nursing home.  We’ve had 70 years to process what happened during World War II.  For him, it was less than a month ago.  He had been awake for a matter of weeks when he was called upon to defend the world from an alien invasion, which he did without complaint.  You realize for the rest of his life, every person he ever talks to will have preconceived notions of who he is based on their idea of the Captain America they grew up with? People look to him to lead in a crisis because that’s what he did in the cartoons they watched on Saturday mornings. It’s an awfully lonely life Tony.  And he could easily be really bitter about it.  You said some terrible things to him and instead of holding them against you, he came here to apologize to_ you _.  You should really cut the kid a little slack.”_

_Tony gaped like a fish.  It was the longest speech he’d ever heard Bruce give that wasn’t science related.  “Jesus, Bruce. You don’t pull your punches even when you aren’t big and green.  Now I know how Loki felt.”_

_Clearly embarrassed by his impassioned plea, Bruce turned away.  “I just think you should be a little nicer to him.  He deserves to be judged on who he actually is, not on his reputation.”  On that note, he escaped to his room._

***

“And if anyone knows what it’s like to be judged negatively by his reputation, it’s Bruce.” Concluded Tony. “So I guess what I’m trying to say is…I’m sorry.  And I will try to only be a dick to you based on my opinions of Steve Rogers and not Captain America going forward.”

Earnest Golder Retriever was back. “I…I really appreciate that Tony.”

“Alright, that’s enough of this touchy-feely crap.  I would have come before now, but I wanted to wait until the Tower was done in case I needed to do some groveling.  Your floor is a bit sparse right now, I wasn’t sure what you’d want in there.  My dad may have mentioned once or twice or a hundred times that you were an artist before the war, so I had Pepper design some studio space.  But I didn’t know if you would want a big kitchen since I have no idea if you can even cook, or if you’d want a big tv or to pretend like it was still 1945 and just have a radio, so I figured instead of just surprising you I would ask for your opinion.”

Aaaand there was Confused Beagle face, right on schedule. “You...made a floor for me? But you don’t even know me.”

Tony sighed.  “Look, I may not know Steve Rogers.  I may not even really know Captain America.  Which, by the way, is confusing.  I mean, I am Iron Man and Iron Man is me.”

Earnest Golder Retriever replied “Yes, but Iron Man isn’t all you are.  Iron Man is your public persona; I have a hard time believing that there’s nothing more than that behind closed doors.”

“That…was a surprisingly insightful comment on modern celebrity culture from a man born before Hawaii was a state.” It was Tony’s turn to be surprised.

“People forget that before Captain America fought in the war, I toured the country with a bunch of chorus girls.  I met a lot of people who made assumptions based on that persona even back during the war.  Until your father helped me mount what I was very lucky did not turn out to be a suicide mission, no one took me seriously – especially the soldiers who had been on the front lines.”  Rogers didn’t look like any particular dog at the moment, he just looked thoughtful.

“Yeah I’ve heard that story.  My dad never shut up about you….and my therapist says his obsession with you is why I’ve been taking out some of my daddy issues on you.  Not that I needed a therapist to tell me that; it was very obvious and I figured it out all on my own.  Although I did forget you were a chorus girl.  Tell me, did you also wear – no, no…I promised I was going to be nicer so I’ll save that joke until I get to know you better.  As I was saying, I may not know you but I do know that when the world needs you, you’ve proven you’ll be there.  And I know that the world will need the Avengers again and it will go a lot smoother if we skip the in-fighting next time.  We’re sort of a motley crew; I know Thor and Banner don’t have permanent places to stay stateside and from what I’ve seen of Romanov and Barton, they seem the sort to use SHIELD as home base, so I took the liberty of providing everyone with a place to hang their hats…or hammers, bows, and shields.  It’s there if you want it.  And I find it very difficult to take no for an answer, so it will be easier for all of us if you just say yes.”  Tony paused, making eye contact with Rogers.  “So what do you say, Rogers?”

“Has everyone else agreed?” Rogers’ face appeared carefully expressionless.

“The good doctor already agreed before construction on the residential floors started, although he’s sort of …on sabbatical at the moment.  Apparently his big green alter ego doesn’t like the noise that several dozen men wielding saws and hammers make, so he retreated back to India until it was done.  He should be on his way back now; I emailed him.  As for the wonder twins of SHIELD, Romanov texted me right before I got on the jet this morning; she and Barton will be by for the tour tonight.  As for Thor, well it’s hard to get an email to reach Asgard.  I was, uh, waiting to talk to you until the others had agreed and it was ready.” Tony had the grace to flush slightly with embarrassment.  “I figured I had a better chance of convincing you if the others had already agreed, since you could trust their judgment over mine.”

“Well….it beats living out of a motel.” Rogers finally replied.

“Great.  You can join tonight’s tour.  We’ll take my jet.” Tony clapped him on the shoulder with one hand, putting his shades back on with the other, and started striding out the door without waiting to see if the good captain was following.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if verbal contracts are actually legally binding in the state of New York. It just seemed like something Tony would say.
> 
> I'm not sure I did justice to Tony's voice - I find him particularly hard to write - but I liked the idea that he has named most of Steve's expressions after dogs. I've got a list going, but I am open to suggestions!
> 
> In the next chapter, we'll find out what happened to Bruce and so will the other Avengers...and they will not be happy about it.


	2. Gilded Cages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce adjusts to his new normal, as much as anyone can. The rest of the team moves into the Tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess maybe a trigger warning for some light, hands off sort of torture and a passing mention that could be taken as a suicidal thought, but there are more blatant references to that kind of thing in the film. Just fair warning though.
> 
> Thank you to those who have read and kudos-ed and especially those who have commented. I really didn't think anyone was going to read this, so I'm excited that other people are invested. Keep them coming :-)

** Chapter 2: Gilded Cages **

Bruce had lost count of how many days he had been in captivity.  Captivity sounded so dramatic, but what else would you call it, if you aren’t allowed to leave?  Okay, sure he’s in an apartment nicer than any he had ever lived in, even prior to the Incident that left him with a rage filled alter ego.  But a cage with a couch and a television is still a cage.  He still had virtually no contact with the outside world, save the occasional food delivery.  His every move was being filmed and he knew they were doing experiments on him and there was nothing he could do about it.  They had perfected some sort of gas that they piped in through the vents to subdue him if he tried to Hulk out.

When he first awoke in this odd prison, he couldn’t remember how he got there and his head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton wool and his mouth was so dry, it was difficult to swallow.  He tried to concentrate.  He had been at Stark Tower…he left to get some balance…and he got into a shady SUV…and then – holy shit! They had drugged him!  And the Hulk hadn’t made an appearance.  The Hulk hadn’t saved him.  He shivered.  Well…fuck.

Initially, he tried to keep track of the days, but he was pretty sure that they were manipulating the clocks as part of their experiments. For sure, they were manipulating the faux daylight coming in through the “windows”.  It was clear the windows were, in actuality, some sort of video screen and the light changed throughout the day as though they were real.  Except that time didn’t seem to pass the same way all the time.  Of course, he felt like his slow descent into madness due to solitary confinement could just be messing with his head.  That was the worst part: he knew he was going crazy. 

He had gone days – and even weeks – without speaking to another person before.  But that was when he had holed up somewhere in nature, by choice, and had he wanted to, he could easily have gone into town.  For a solitary man, he was drawn to others.  There is a reason he ended up in a city in one of the most populated nations on earth when he was on the run, when in truth it may have been safer for everyone had he stayed away.  He tended to hold himself apart, even surrounded by people, so he never consciously realized how much he needed them around, needed to know they were there.  Now he was sure it had been months since he had been taken and he was afraid he would never see or speak to another human being in his life.

In the beginning, he thought that perhaps SHIELD was testing him.  Maybe, he reasoned, that Pierce had meant it when he was saying that they wanted to give him a place to calm down and they had just gone about it in the ham-handed way SHIELD did everything.  After all, didn’t Tony tell him some story about how they kept him under some kind of house arrest when he was working on fixing the arc reactor…?  That must be it…so all he had to do was keep calm and prove to them he was ready to go back.  If all they were going to do was detain him, why would they have given him such a nice apartment?

He spent at least a week following a loose sort of schedule that he made for himself.  He would get up, meditate, shower and shave, cook breakfast, read a book, do some yoga, make lunch, watch tv, a bit of light cleaning, have dinner, meditate again, then get ready for bed.  While he was cleaning, he noted the position of all the cameras.  The only place without them was, comfortingly, the bathroom.  The bathroom itself was smaller than one would expect for an apartment that size, barely enough room for a shower stall, sink, and toilet, but if that was the one camera blindspot, it made sense they wouldn’t want it to be very large.

In all that time, he heard nothing from anyone.  No one came to knock on the door.  No one attempted to communicate with him through the fake windows.  Radio silence.  It wasn’t until the food in the kitchen ran low that he began to feel the first bits of panic start up, burning through his carefully maintained emotional walls like flames licking up the side of a building.  The more he tried to control it, the further and faster the flames of panic spread – because behind those walls, a green behemoth was itching to be released and it was not going to be pretty.  If the Other Guy made an appearance, would SHIELD throw away the key to this cell forever?  Had they reinforced the walls enough that he wouldn’t be able to escape or would he end up rampaging around, murdering innocent people until they found some way to put him down for good?  Would that even be a bad thing?  It was clear from the way they had brought him here that SHIELD had been experimenting with drugs strong enough to take down the Hulk, but would they only work before he changed?

His mind was racing so quickly that he almost didn’t notice the way his pulse rate had skyrocketed until he felt the familiar and extremely unpleasant feeling of his bones crunching as they began his transformation.  He squeezed his eyes shut, mentally chanting _No, no, no, no, nononononononono…_ until he realized he was somehow stuck halfway.  Had…had he managed to stop it?  Could it be that after the Battle, he actually had control over the Other Guy?  His heart was still racing and he ached all over; he was doubled over on the floor on all fours and shaking like a leaf in a hurricane.  His skin felt tight and stretched and when he opened his eyes, he saw that his hands were tinged green.  It was then he heard the hissing noise.  Startled, he stumbled to his feet, whirling around to find the source of the sound, and grabbed on to the back of the couch to remain upright when he saw some kind of white smoke being pumped into the room via the air vents.

The panic that had begun to retreat flared up with a vengeance and he found himself back on the floor.  Distantly, as though he was having an out of body experience, he noted that he was hyperventilating.  That couldn’t be good – he would definitely be inhaling the smoke more rapidly than if he was breathing normally.  He really should stop that. _Stop it, Bruce!_ He tried to tell himself. _Pull yourself together.  You’re a goddamn doctor of physics.  Now is no time to lose it.  Stop it, stop it, stop it, stopitstopitstopitstopstopSTOPSTOPSTOP!  Great, now even your internal monologue is hysterical._ A bubble of laughter that wasn’t the least bit funny burst out of his mouth and quickly turned into a sob.  Blackness was curling at the edges of his vision and it was almost a relief when he passed out moments later.

When he came to hours later, he could barely heave himself off of the floor.  He held on to the back of the single chair that went with the tiny kitchen table to keep himself from collapsing back down.  As he did, he examined his hands for any sign that he was still stuck halfway between himself and the Other Guy and was incredibly relieved to find they had gone back to their normal non-green shade.  He took a few deep breaths to try to steady himself, but his head was spinning too much for it to make a difference.  Shakily, he pulled the chair out and sank down into it.  It was then that he noticed the table was piled with boxes of dried pasta and canned fruit and vegetables and boxes of tea bags and other non-perishables.  He blew out an enormous sigh of relief that at the very least, he wouldn’t slowly starve to death.

 _Alright, Bruce, they aren’t planning to starve you out…but what the fuck was up with that smoke? No no, don’t hyperventilate again.  Let’s just…go take a hot shower and see if that will help with the muscle fatigue…_ In the back of his consciousness, back behind the walls he kept up, he thought he could almost hear the Other Guy whimpering in pain…but no, that had to be his imagination.  He hauled himself to his feet to go through the motions of what had become his new normal.  Routines were important; they were calming and they helped settle his nerves.

Once he knew there would be some kind of regular food delivery, he thought he would be able to anticipate it to keep it from becoming such a nightmare the next time.  That’s when he confirmed what he had suspected all along; SHIELD, if it truly was SHIELD keeping him here, did not have his best interests at heart.  The next time, he was woken out of a dead sleep by blaring alarms and flashing lights.  Had he not been in the middle of a nightmare starring the Chitauri, then perhaps it wouldn’t have startled a transformation out of him.  But as with the first time, the gas piped into the room kept him mid-change.  Unlike the first time, he didn’t pass out due to hyperventilating, but instead due to excruciating pain.  The leftover ache from that occasion felt like a hangover dialed up to eleven.

He started referring to the incidents in his head as Smoke Attacks, although the smoke was actually the response to his own reaction.  He thought maybe they were trying to train him out of unexpected visits from the Other Guy, especially when the next time he was woken out of a nightmare with the same kind of light and sound extravaganza as before, he managed to keep a hold of himself.  His captors learned to get creative.  One time it was a controlled explosion.  Another, they used sleep deprivation tactics.  Once, they projected video from the Battle of Manhattan on the wall and he was briefly convinced the Chitauri were there.

It wasn’t all the time.  Days and sometimes weeks, as far as he could ascertain from the faux windows, would pass in silence broken only by the occasional sounds of the tv or radio.  His daily routine dwindled to getting up, using his shower and shave routine as meditation, throwing together some kind of mostly edible food, and spending the rest of the day cocooned in a blanket on the couch with the tv or radio droning on.  He found that the more time passed, the less he could concentrate on much of anything.  First the ability and desire to focus on a book dwindled down to nothing, so he watched more and more daytime television.  After a while, he realized he spent most of every day just staring into the middle distance rather than actually watching what was on.  He tried leaving the television off after that, but it creeped him out too much to just sit in silence, so he started keeping it on all the time.  He found that it was too much effort to go back to his bedroom every night and began sleeping on the couch.  He was a complete wreck and he knew it, often finding himself silently weeping into the cushions as he drifted off to sleep, although he was still proud enough to want to keep that from whoever was behind the Let’s Drive Banner Crazy as a Fun Experiment plan, so he had taken to sleeping with his face pushed against the back of the couch.

It wasn’t surprising that eventually he started to hallucinate, between the enforced solitude and the light torture.  He started seeing the other Avengers walking around his place and at first he thought it was just another tactic they were using to surprise a Smoke Attack, but then Tony started talking to him. 

“You know Bruce, I think you’ve gone completely crackers locked up in here. You’ve been watching Keeping Up With the Kardashians for three days straight and I know how much you hate reality tv – you complained to me about it for three hours once.”

Bruce was shocked into speaking aloud for the first time in weeks “How – how does SHIELD know about that?” His voice was gravelly from disuse.

Phony Tony raised an eyebrow at him.  “Really Bruce? I think it’s perfectly obvious that I’m a delusion and not a hologram.”

It should probably worry him that Phony Tony’s logic made sense to him, but he found it reassuring instead.  Phony Tony wasn’t the only one who visited; Bogus Steve, Imitation Natasha, and Counterfeit Clint made appearances as well.  Once he was visited by a Faux Thor, but since he hadn’t had all that much interaction with the Norse god, his mind couldn’t sustain the illusion for long.  It surprised him that, second to Phony Tony, Counterfeit Clint was a frequent visitor. 

He knew he was projecting, since he hadn’t had many conversations with the actual man either, but he had felt a kinship with anyone who knew what it was like to feel the weight of actions that you had no control over.  Obviously, mind control was different from when the Other Guy made an appearance, but he had really admired the way the archer had put everything aside and stepped up during the Battle, so in the week or so they had all spent together during debriefing, he had noticed quite a lot more than he thought about the other man. 

The hallucinations were a nice respite from his loneliness, but his sanity was hanging by a thread and he knew it.  It was only a matter of time before the next Smoke Attack and an eternity alone stretched out before him.  What if the next time, he was stuck in that awful in between state for good?  The feeling of helplessness and hopelessness had settled in his gut like a rock and kept his appetite extremely low.  He had to force himself to eat at all and the dizziness that he was getting used to told him he was barely eating enough to sustain his lack of activity, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.  Was this how his life was going to end – not with a bang but a whimper?

***

Steve Rogers had not felt at home in a long time, not even in his own skin.  He was still surprised every time he caught an unexpected glimpse of his reflection in a mirrored surface and expected to see a short, sickly kid instead of Captain America.  Waking up in a new century had certainly been an extra layer on top of that, but he had known as soon as Bucky had slipped through his fingers into a snowy ravine that he could never go home again, so going to live in Avengers Tower was as good as anything, he supposed. 

He was willing to give Stark a chance; even if he wasn’t sure of his sincerity, he owed Howard’s son the benefit of the doubt.  Plus, where else was he going to go where other people would know his history the way the rest of the team did?  He was pretty confident most of it was classified and even if it wasn’t, who wouldn’t think he was a crazy person the second he mentioned the reason he only understood 30% of what they were saying because he’d been frozen in ice for 70 years?

He had originally intended on staying in DC, close to Peggy so he could visit her as often as possible.  Stark hadn’t been wrong inferring that Peggy was having a bad day when he arrived, but it wasn’t due to her Alzheimer’s.  She had told Steve in no uncertain terms that what he was doing, visiting her so frequently, was unhealthy and she had instructed her care givers to refuse him entry.

“You have to live your life, Steve.  I’ve already lived mine.” She told him as he clutched her hand tightly. 

“Peggy…most days it feels like you’re the only thing keeping me tethered to reality.” He confessed, eyes brimming with tears.

“That’s exactly what I’m on about, Steve.  I’m an old woman and you need to rejoin the world.  You’ve been hiding here for four months and enough is enough.  Cowardice doesn’t become you.  Don’t give me those sad golden retriever eyes.  You know I’m right.” She lectured, patting his hand to soften the blow.

One corner of his mouth turned up into a wry smile.  “You’re always right.”

“Of course I am.  With age comes wisdom.  Now give us a hug and be on your way, soldier.” Peggy ordered gently.

He leaned down to embrace her carefully, mindful of how frail she had become, and kissed her gently on the cheek.  “Can…would it be okay if…If I called you on occasion, would you answer?”

“For god’s sake Steve, I didn’t say I was cutting off all contact.  I just don’t want you sitting here all day, every day wasting your youth.  Besides, I have a feeling you’re going to get an offer soon, and you really should accept it.”  Her eyes met his as she squeezed his hand one final time before calling for her nurse.

“Goodbye for now, Steve.  You’ll be brilliant.”

He had made it into the hall before collapsing heavily onto a bench, head in his hands, as he wept for all he had lost.  He had just gotten himself under control when Stark had arrived and it seemed like Peggy knew what he was there for, so he took her advice and accepted his offer of a place to hang his shield.

*

Several hours later, Steve was a bit shell shocked by the scope of the tour he had just taken.  Stark had blathered on the whole time about “brushed steel” this and “mahogany” that, pointing out all of the different features of the multitude of gadgets in every room.  Agents Barton and Romanov had joined them in the lobby when they had arrived, and Barton in particular looked as overwhelmed as Steve felt.

“This is…a little over the top, Stark.” Romanov was the first to speak after the tour concluded in what Stark was referring to as the family room, which consisted of an open concept space that included living room with a massive couch, the outside wall of floor to ceiling windows plus a large balcony, bordered by a decent kitchen and dining area big enough for all of them to sit comfortably together.

“What are you talking about? Pepper wouldn’t let me add in a quarter of the amenities I wanted to.  I was going to have each suite include your own gym, but she said it made more sense if we all share, especially if we decide to train together.  It’s not like I don’t have the space and what is money for if you don’t spend it?”  Stark looked honestly confused that they were so reticent.  “Don’t you like it?”

“Dude, it’s great.” Barton piped up from his perch on the back of the couch.  Romanov was sitting on the seat in front of him, leaning against his leg. “It’s just we aren’t used to this sort of generosity coming without strings.”

Ms. Potts entered the room in time to catch that last bit, and smiled at them all warmly.  “I know he tends to go a bit overboard, but it’s how he shows he cares.  This is a very scaled back version of what he originally envisioned; this room was going to include a champagne waterfall.  I convinced him that it would be too difficult to keep the champagne both carbonated and chilled, and would really be a waste.” She smiled fondly over at Stark, simultaneously rolling her eyes.

Stark pouted a bit.  “I still maintain that I could have figured out how to re-carbonate it and keep it cold.  But no one would listen.  Never mind that I’m the genius.”

Ms. Potts ignored him.  “If anything in your suite is not to your liking, just let me know.  Actually, you can just tell JARVIS and he’ll pass it along.  They aren’t really furnished yet; I thought if you had pieces you wanted to bring with you it would be easier to add more later than to buy a bunch of new stuff and have to get rid of it when you moved in.  But I did get you all new beds – you’re supposed to get new mattresses every 5 to 10 years, but most people don’t replace them often enough.  If you don’t like the style, we have a few weeks to return them for something different.  You’re all welcome to pick out your own furniture, obviously, but I dabble in interior design so if you’d like me to do it for you, I am happy to.”  She was looking at Steve as she said it, but it didn’t feel too pointed.  She had a very warm, sincere air about her and he knew she meant it.

“Thank you, Ms. Potts.  You’ve been more than generous already, but I will definitely take you up on your offer.” He replied.

“It’s Pepper, please, Captain.  We’re going to be neighbors, after all.” She smiled back.

“Steve.” He insisted in turn.

Stark squawked unintelligibly, then muttered “Oh sure, thank Pepper.  Don’t thank me, I’m only the brains behind the operation.”

“What was that Tony?” Ms. Po- Pepper asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Nothing dear.  Absolutely nothing.” Stark replied, still scowling.  “Are we all allowed to call you Steve or is it just my girlfriend who gets the pleasure of being on a first name basis?”

 _Oh_. Steve thought. _Maybe it’s not appropriate to call someone’s girl by their given name unless you’ve got designs on her? I thought this century was informal, but maybe I’ve stepped in to some sort of obvious faux pas again…_ His mind raced with a way to apologize without also offending Pepper, who didn’t seem like she would take kindly to any insinuation that she was anything less than her own person.  Steve’s thoughts began to spiral and he could feel a mild panic start to claw at the edges of his control when he realized that now he had paused for an awkward amount of time.

Romanov was examining him with a slight squint that made him squirm in his seat, tilting her head as she did.  Barton caught the look, glanced at Steve’s face, and then smiled disarmingly.  “Well I for one refuse to stand on ceremony, Tony.  Fighting along side somebody means you’re automatically on a first name basis, in my book.”

Steve nearly collapsed back in his chair, he was so relieved.  He shot Clint a grateful glance.  “Uh, I’d uh, actually prefer it.  Rogers makes me feel like I’m back in Basic.” _And being called Steve makes me feel like I’ve got friends again.  Wow, that’s pathetic._

“Okay then, _Steve_ ,” Clint winked at him “Which of the suites would you like?”

*

It took Steve several days to settle in well enough that he didn’t get a little lost on the way to the common kitchen.  He had a kitchen in his suite, of course, but he was still having a little difficulty with the coffee maker and no matter what time it was, Clint always had a fresh pot brewed in their shared kitchen.  He wasn’t sure if the other man could sleep, based on the amount of caffeine he appeared to ingest on a daily basis.

Most mornings when Steve came for a cup, Clint was out on the balcony, staring out across the city.  Steve would take his coffee and go sit, not too close, and after fifteen minutes or so of a comfortable silence, Steve would thank him for brewing the coffee and then head out.

This particular morning, he seemed on edge and Steve couldn’t stay quiet.  “Morning Clint.  Are you alright?”

The archer shook his head to clear it and turned to focus on Steve.  “I’m supposed to retake the marksmanship exam today.  It was going to be last week, but it got pushed.”

“I’ve seen you hit a target the size of a pea as you were jumping off the side of a building. That should be a snap for you.”  Steve took in the queasy expression and pale complexion and continued, “Shouldn’t it?”

Clint looked away.  “I haven’t…I haven’t exactly picked up my bow since…” he trailed off.

Steve’s expression softened.  “Sometimes it’s easier to do it in the heat of the moment because you don’t have any time to really think about what you’re doing.  You just do it.”

Clint chuckle seemed a bit off, but he nodded anyway.  “I…ever since, any time I even think about picking up my bow, my hands just start shaking.  There’s no way I’d be able to aim…”

Steve nodded seriously and offered “I don’t know if this is common knowledge in the future, but the first time I did anything officially as Captain America, that is, apart from the ridiculous show to earn money for war bonds, it was an unplanned rescue mission.”

Clint grinned. “Yeah, the story of Captain America mounting a one-man rescue mission has gone down in history.”

Steve rolled his eyes “I’m sure it’s been exaggerated a lot.  Anyway, they probably didn’t say that on the trek back to camp, I puked my guts up on more than one occasion and spent a lot of time shaking like a leaf any time I thought about engaging the enemy again.  But a day into our march, I caught sight of a German scout and instinct had me hurling my shield at him before I even fully registered it.  I have complete confidence that you’ll be able to do that in a fight, even if today’s test doesn’t go well, which I don’t believe it will, for the record.”

“Thanks Steve.” Clint replied.  “That actually helps.  A lot.”  He was quiet for a minute, then said suddenly. “I know it must be really weird for you, that everyone knows a version of your story that isn’t quite…accurate.  They know all sorts of things about you that you would probably only want your close friends to know, so…I figure I should even the playing field a little.  When I was a kid, my brother and I dropped out of school to join the circus.  It’s where I learned to shoot a bow and arrow, actually, and why I can make all those crazy trick shots, and where I get my code name.  ‘Come see the Amazing Hawkeye!’”  The last part Clint said in a cheesy announcer voice.  “Anyway, I know it’s not the same, but…” he shrugged one shoulder.

Touched, Steve replied “Thanks for sharing, Clint.  Really.”

Clint saluted as he headed back in for another cup of coffee.  “Right back atcha, Cap.”

Steve got up from his spot at the table and went to lean against the railing and look out at the city as he finished the last of his coffee.  When he turned to go back inside, Natasha was standing directly in front of him.  He definitely did not let out a strangled yelp, although he would admit to a small startled twitch.

He cleared his throat and inclined his head, “Natasha.”

A minute smile played upon her lips for a split second as she imitated him. “Steve.”

He grasped for something to say. “Uh, how, uh, how is the morning treating you?”

Ignoring his attempt at small talk, she replied “Thank you for that.” Gesturing with her head back inside the building.

He knew she was referring to the conversation he had just shared with Clint, although how she could possibly know what they were talking about when he was sure she hadn’t been on the balcony with them….well it was one of the eternal mysteries of Natasha Romanov.  “Oh well, it was nothing.” A flush started spreading up the back of his neck.

“Not to him.  His whole life has been SHIELD, it has been everything, and since Loki…let’s just say they have not been treating him well.  Most people won’t even make eye contact with him and will cross over streets to stay as far away as possible.  He pretends it doesn’t get to him, that he is fine with it, but he knows none of those people will ever trust him to watch their back again and most won’t want a bow back in his hands.  They are rooting for him to fail.”

Shocked, Steve replied “Why would they have rescheduled his test to give him more time if they want him to fail?”

“I told them to.  I can be…very persuasive.” Her smile was more a baring of her teeth like a shark than a grin. “You think they don’t know he’s not sleeping or eating enough and that he hasn’t even touched a weapon since Loki?  He lived in SHIELD housing, Steve.  He’s spent time with every head shrinker they have for months.  In my opinion, they are waiting for him to fail so they have a valid reason to leave him in the cold.  And I will not let that happen.  If he leaves SHIELD, it’s going to be because he wanted to, not because they gave up on him.  So thank you.  I was skeptical about actually staying here, you know.  I had thought that it would just be a good spot for Clint to get away from SHIELD for a few days and test out an archery range without everyone’s eyes on him.  But it’s good for us.  I think we’ll stay.”  Her frankly terrifying grin had softened, and now she was smiling like a person.

“It’s good, that you’re staying.  Uh, I mean, I’m glad because I didn’t want to be the only – well not that I’m the only one, I mean there’s Pepper and Tony, but Banner’s not here and – “ He could hear himself rambling and he tried to reel it back in.  “It must be nice for the two of you, to have some privacy from SHIELD.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, looking irritated. “Why would we need privacy?”

His entire face was on fire. “Oh well, you know, it must be, uh, difficult with everyone around all the time, for you to uh, well I, oh god.  I’m just going to stop talking.”

Natasha’s serious expression broke and she let out a brief but genuine laugh.  “I’m just screwing with you.  Clint and I aren’t together _together_ , for the record.”

Feeling like an utter jackass, he stuttered “Oh, I-I, I’m sorry, I just thought…well because you’re so… and so I... well it was wrong of – it’s not like you…you just seem close.”  He squeezed his eyes shut trying to stave off the embarrassment of putting his foot in his mouth _again_.

She laughed quietly again and nudged him with her shoulder hard enough to knock him a tiny bit off balance.  “Steve.  We are close.  And we encourage the misconception most of the time.  But I’d like us all to be friends.”

Relieved, Steve smiled.  “I’d, uh, I’d like that too.  It’s been…a long time since I’ve had friends.” He offered shyly.

*

Clint sought him out after his test and held out his fist.  Steve just looked at him, bewildered.  When Clint saw the look on his face, he explained the mechanics of a fist bump.

“And, if you’re particularly happy, as soon as your fists touch, you can explode it back like this.” He demonstrated.  “Explosion noises are optional.”

Steve grinned.  “I take it you passed?”

Clint replied smugly, “Of course. The Amazing Hawkeye never misses.”  He rolled his eyes and continued softly “Seriously though, Steve.  Thank you for this morning.  I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Clint.  The Amazing Hawkeye never misses.”  Steve was pleased when his words startled a genuine laugh out of the archer.

Clint decided to make a celebratory meal and had JARVIS invite the rest of the Tower’s residents.  Steve hadn’t done a lot of cooking, especially since he had woken up, so he offered to help if Clint explained what he was doing.

“Where did you learn how to cook?” Steve asked as he chopped carrots.

Clint looked faintly embarrassed. “Honestly?  Cooking shows on television and then a lot of trial and error.  Insider tip – it’s much easier to make food for a bunch of people, otherwise you end up eating leftovers for days and no matter how good it is, you’ll never want to make it again.” He glanced appraisingly at Steve and amended “Well maybe not for you, with your enhanced appetite.” And winked.

A few hours later, the Avengers minus Bruce and Thor and plus Pepper reclined back in their chairs, satisfied.

“Clint that was delicious.  I don’t think I’ve ever been this full in my life.” Pepper praised.

“You did good, Legolas.  I think this should be a weekly tradition.  Family style dinners are good for morale.” Tony added.

“What are you going to make when it’s your turn, Tony?” Steve asked innocently.

“My turn?  When did I agree to that?” Tony squawked.

“Family style means everyone takes a turn.” Natasha piped up, very seriously.

Tony looked a little intimidated and open his mouth to reply when JARVIS interrupted. “Pardon me, sir.  But I have found that information you asked for earlier.”

“Saved by the AI.” Tony muttered.  “What’s the sitch, JARVIS?”

“Sir, you had mentioned that this was to be kept quiet.” Steve was still not used to the AI, and had trouble truly believing it wasn’t a Wizard of Oz-type Man-Behind-the-Curtain situation.  Especially when, like now, the AI didn’t follow orders without question.

“Yes, but not from the rest of the team. Just from the other nosy people in the building. It concerns them too.” Tony waved a hand impatiently in a just-get-on-with-it sort of way.

“Very well, Sir. It appears you were correct that Doctor Banner has not received any of your email communications.  While an attempt was made to make it look as though he had via an automated read receipt notification, he has in fact not logged in to his email service since prior to his departure from the Tower.”

“Son of a bitch.  I _knew_ it.  I _knew_ he should have been back by now.” Tony was pacing the room agitatedly.

“Tony?” Pepper was the first one to speak, but the rest of the group was clearly wondering what was going on as well.

“Bruce told me when he left that he’d be checking email every Monday and that he’d come back as soon as I let him know the construction on the Tower was done.  Only I emailed him over two weeks ago and he hasn’t sent so much as a smoke signal back.  I’ve been sending him links for months to things I thought were funny, but I thought his radio silence was just his way of rolling his eyes at my, uh, offbeat sense of humor.  I’d been getting read receipts-“

“Notifications that a person has opened an email.” Clint explained to Steve in an undertone.

“But apparently they were fake.  And if Bruce was just planning to fade away into the sunset even though he _promised_ me he wasn’t, why would he bother to forge read receipts?  Why wouldn’t he even bother to access his email?”

“Just playing Devil’s Advocate here, but he knew you’d be able to trace his location if he logged in.  And read receipts would keep you from getting suspicious that he wasn’t where he said he was.” Natasha replied.  At Tony’s glare, she shrugged a shoulder.  “It’s what I would do.”

“Yes, but you are an international assassin.  _Bruce_ is a physicist.” Tony shot back.

“And a brilliant one.  I’m not saying that we shouldn’t look for him or that he isn’t in trouble.  But I think after we find him, you should prepare yourself for the idea he may not want to be found.  He certainly wasn’t happy I found him in the first place and I think we should respect his decision if that’s the case.”  Natasha raised a good point, one they were all contemplating when the brief silence was broken by JARVIS.

“While you’ve been talking, I took the liberty of running a facial recognition search for Doctor Banner.  The last time his image was picked up on a camera was shortly after he left the Tower, mere blocks from here.  If you’ll turn your attention to the screen, you can see the footage.”

The video wasn’t very high quality, but it was unmistakably Doctor Banner.  He was walking in that hunched in way he did, trying to make himself as small as possible.  He hadn’t gone more than a few steps before a massive black SUV pulled up beside him.  The window rolled down and while they couldn’t see who was inside, someone was clearly speaking.  Banner looked resigned, as though he had been expecting something of the sort.  He shook his head once and then got in the vehicle, which pulled back in to traffic and drove off.

“Ty, dolzhno byt', izdevayesh'sya nado mnoy!” Natasha growled, in what Steve assumed was Russian.  They all turned to look at her, but it was Clint that spoke next.

Clint was holding back barely controlled anger, his face pinched.  “That’s a SHIELD car.  I can’t _believe_ this.  SHIELD took him.”

“How could you not have known?” Tony looked enraged.

“Clearly, they kept it from us.” Natasha’s anger was on a much tighter leash than Clint’s, but it was unmistakable just the same. “Because they knew we would not agree.  Doctor Banner deserves to be left alone.  I promised him we would let him go after he found the Tesseract and my word is all I have.”

“Where would they have taken him?” Steve asked.

Natasha sighed.  “It may take us some time to find him.  He’s most certainly being detained in one of SHIELD’s black sites, but there are quite a few…and even I don’t know where they all are.”

“ _Fuck_!” Clint’s exclamation startled them, and they all swung their attention his way.  His face went white and he was shaking with what Steve thought was most likely a combination of betrayal and rage.  “I think I know.  Well not where, exactly, but at least where they’re monitoring the feeds.  I saw it, once.  I had intended to go back and investigate but…it was the night you came home, Tash, and I…I forgot.”  His face looked like it was collapsing in on itself as he screwed his eyes tight and took a fortifying breath, before making eye contact with each of them one by one.  “You have to understand, I wasn’t…wasn’t doing very well, before.  Sometimes, I…when I have trouble sleeping, the room just feels too exposed and so I go into the vents.  I went exploring that night and saw this room, you know, with a set of monitors and two guys watching someone.  I couldn’t see their face, I mean if I knew – if I had any idea, any at all that it was _Banner_ , I never would have…well.  Anyway, I thought it was weird so I figured I’d poke around some more, only when I woke up, Natasha was there with the offer to move here and…and I took it and forgot all about it.  God, this is all my _fault_.”  The last words exploded out of his mouth and he slumped down to hide his face in his hands, clearly distraught.

“Setting aside your very weird fetish for air ducts, which I assure you I will be exploring at a much later date, John McClane, fuck that.” Tony’s response was much less combative than Steve was expecting.  “By that point, he’d been missing for months.  I should have noticed sooner, but the thing about SHIELD is that they are good at what they do.  Too bad for them that I’m better.  We’re going to get him back and we’re going to be using your vent spelunking skills to do it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't speak Russian and Google translate told me that "ty, dolzhno byt', izdevayesh'sya nado mnoy" means "you've got to be fucking kidding me" but it is entirely possible it really says something about ducks and geese, I have now way of knowing really.
> 
> Bruce's thought to himself about how his life might end is a reference to the T.S. Eliot quote "This is the way the world ends/Not with a bang but a whimper."
> 
> This has already taken on a bigger life of its own than I ever expected; I'm over 10k words in and Bruce and Clint haven't even had any page time together, but it turns out they all have quite a lot to say.
> 
> If you have any thoughts or questions or opinions or literally anything to say about this fic, please please comment.


	3. Hopeful Desperaion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers find out more details on what happened to Bruce and plot a rescue. Bruce is surprised while shaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has kudos-ed(?) and commented and subscribed so far! I'm enjoying writing this a lot and it's cool to see that other people are enjoying it.
> 
> Obviously, this is a very slow burn fic seeing as the first two chapters had zero interaction between Bruce and Clint, but they at least have some page time in this one :-)
> 
> Please drop me a line via the comments if you have any thoughts, even if it's just "This seems pretty ok so far".

** Chapter 3: Hopeful Desperation **

The moment when the pieces had all come together and Clint realized that the figure in the video footage that he had spied through the vent was Doctor Banner, he thought his heart had stopped entirely.  Despair had over taken him – how _could_ he have fucked up this badly? But then Tony’s impromptu rallying speech had stopped him from unravelling for now.  He had a job to do and he was going to spring the Doc if it was the last thing he did.  And if he survived it, _then_ he could fall apart.

Tony and Nat were going over the plans and gadgets he was going to take with him, so he slunk off to suit up and pack his bag.  He didn’t notice that Steve had followed him until he spoke up, softly.

“Are you alright?” Steve’s voice, for such a large man, was unexpectedly gentle.

Clint turned from arranging the arrows in his quiver and met Steve’s gaze.  “Right now, yeah.  It’s like you said before – I have something else to focus on and I just have to do it.  I don’t have the time to second guess myself.  You can use those sad eyes on me again later.”

Steve looked startled.  “What sad eyes?”

Clint huffed out a laugh.  “You mean you don’t make that kicked puppy face on purpose?”

“Kicked puppy?!” Steve bristled.

“Don’t worry about it, Cap.  It’s part of your charm.” Clint grinned at the other man’s obvious struggle to accept what he was saying while remaining sympathetic to Clint’s earlier distress.  He clapped Steve on the shoulder and said softly “Thank you.”

*

Once Tony explained the plan, Clint realized his quiver was only going to be a hindrance.  Despite his earlier reticence, now that he couldn’t take his bow, he felt naked without it.  Nat pulled him aside before they headed in.  She was tugging his clothes into place around his weapons, which was Nat’s way of checking to see how he was doing, and he knew she was struggling with many of the same feelings of guilt as he was.  It wasn’t like her to be nervous.  When she went to adjust his jacket over the gun at his hip for the third time, he swatted her hands away.  “I’m fine, Tasha. Really.  I’ve got this.”

“I know that.  It’s just…” She tucked something into the inside chest pocket of his jacket, then smoothed out the fabric.  “I was the one who brought him in.” That was Nat Speak for _I feel responsible for what SHIELD has done to him._

“You couldn’t have known.” Clint stuck his hand in the pocket to figure out what she had slipped in, and realized it was one of her favorite knives.  Touched, he put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed reassuringly.

“But I should have.” She retorted, stubbornly.

“We will figure out who is responsible.” The set of his eyebrows told her what he didn’t say aloud. _And make them pay._

She nodded sharply, picked a non-existent speck of dust from his shirt, and replied “Off you go.”

*

The first thing he had to do was simple - find his way back to through the vents to the location of the room where the video feed was being monitored and plant a bug which Tony would then use to track the location the video was being broadcast from.  It was a simple in-and-out job and took him less than fifteen minutes.  He was back at the Tower within an hour and Tony had already downloaded all the footage while JARVIS was narrowing down his location.

He knew what was on the video was bad the second he walked through the door.  Natasha was visibly shaken, Steve was clenching his jaw so hard it was a wonder his teeth didn’t crack, and Tony was pacing around without his usual quips.  “How-how bad is it?” he asked.

“They’ve been…experimenting.”  Natasha had retreated behind her professional façade the way she always did when she was upset, but anger and sorrow were seeping through the cracks in her normally seamless walls.  She stared straight ahead as she reported their findings. “They have clearly managed to cook up something in the lab to keep the Hulk at bay and they have been testing it out by purposefully trying to instigate an incident and then piping it in through the vents.  They’ve been keeping Doctor Banner completely isolated; the only time anyone enters the apartment is while he has been incapacitated by whatever drug is in the smoke.  He would most likely not be doing well even if they weren’t exposing him to untested chemical mixtures.  He’s been alone for months with no human contact whatsoever.  In the last weeks, he has been talking to himself, although the footage has no audio, and it is likely he has been hallucinating companions to try to stave off a complete mental break.  His ability to care for himself has been on the decline.  His routine started off pretty complex, but now he mostly just sits on the couch with the television on, and it doesn’t seem he has actually been watching it.  As suspected, the only part of the apartment not under surveillance is the bathroom.  He has, luckily, kept to a fairly regular shower and shave schedule, so it is not unusual for him to be in the bathroom for a significant chunk of time.  We can use that to our advantage.”

Clint’s heart sunk lower and lower with every word. He could feel an incandescent rage bubbling up on behalf of the other man.  He wondered if this is how Banner felt right before the Hulk made an appearance.  He took a few deep breaths to settle himself enough to ask, “Is it really safe for him to be trying to shave in his condition?”

Tony paused his pacing and turned to look at Clint. “He told me once that it was like meditation, his routines, and that he tried never to go more than a full day without shaving no matter where he was…but he’s been shaking like an addict going cold turkey, so taking a sharp blade to his face is not his best idea.”

“Sir, I’ve found him.” JARVIS’ interruption was a welcome one, and they immediately began studying the blueprints JARVIS was displaying.

*

The next step of the plan was pretty straight forward.  Clint would infiltrate the SHIELD dark site via the vents while Banner was in the security blindspot and check in with him.  Before they could mount a rescue operation, they needed to know how functional the man they were rescuing was going to be during said operation. 

As infiltrations go, it was easy.  Clint knew SHIELD’s defenses backwards and forwards and, to be honest, it didn’t seem as though this was an often-used black site.  He was a little relieved; it looked more and more like it was a splinter group within SHIELD running the show rather than something sanctioned by Fury, and the thought that his entire adult life wasn’t built entirely on a lie was reassuring. 

 

Almost on autopilot, he broke into the building and started making his way through the vents, keeping in mind the blueprints he had memorized earlier.  As he did, he tried not to think too hard about the fact that the security blindspot was the bathroom.  Clint was struck by the uncomfortable notion that he was coming upon Banner, unannounced, where he would either be showering, shaving, or on the toilet.  How would it feel for Banner, after living like a specimen under a microscope for months, to have his last scrap of privacy torn away – and by someone who should be a friend?  Not that they had really had a chance to become friends, but…his mind strayed to the first time he had seen Banner. 

_This small man on a motorcycle came tooling up through the wreckage that Manhattan already sported, seemingly unconcerned at the devastation and the aliens in the sky.  He wasn’t actually much smaller than Clint himself, but both the comparison to the others – Steve, Thor, Tony in the Iron Man suit – plus the way he was holding himself as though he was trying to become invisible, made him look it.  Banner had grabbed Clint’s attention immediately because of the way Natasha stilled in his presence.  He was shocked to see Nat afraid and was immediately on alert._

_He was expecting, based on Nat’s reaction, that this man was going to turn out to be really dangerous, but the first words out of his mouth were a calm “Well, this all seems horrible.” Clint’s lips twitched at the corners in an almost-smile._

_Nat quipped “I’ve seen worse.” Nat Speak for_ You’re worse. _Clint’s eyebrows drew together in surprise– really?_ This _guy? He wasn’t even armed._

_The man hunched in on himself, making eye contact with Nat and saying sincerely “Sorry.”_

_Nat responded “No, we could use a little worse.” Nat Speak for_ I’m glad you’re here to help.

_It didn’t become clear why until he had turned into a big, green giant.  His mind connected the unassuming man to the incident in Harlem from a few years back, and he shelved his thoughts on the matter to pull out later, after the battle._

_He had been impressed when the Hulk had managed to fight as part of the team – all previous reports had stated that the Hulk didn’t appear to have any higher reasoning skills; clearly, that intel was not entirely correct._

_It hadn’t been until a few days later that he really met Banner for the first time.  It was during a lull in the week of debriefing, while they were all staying in the Tower.  Clint was perched on a balcony railing, staring out over the city, and he heard someone open the door behind him._

_“Oh…I’m sorry, I didn’t realize this balcony was occupied…”Banner soft voice sounded surprised.  “I – I’ll just go.”_

_“Nah, don’t worry about it man.  I’m going to head in for a coffee before the debrief starts up again anyway.” Clint jumped down and walked over.  “We haven’t actually been introduced.  Clint Barton.” He held out a hand._

_Banner looked a little surprised, but shook it.  “Bruce Banner.”_

_“Nice ta meetcha officially, Doc.” Clint smiled briefly._

_Banner looked a little disconcerted by his friendliness, like he wasn’t expecting to be treated with basic politeness. “Yeah, uh, you too.”_

_Clint nodded a goodbye and turned to go inside, but Banner stopped him by saying “Uh, wait up a second?”_

_Clint turned back to the physicist. “What’s up?”_

_Banner’s shoulders were hunched and he was nervously wringing his hands a little, clearly debating internally, before he spoke up “I – I’ve been meaning to, well to speak to you. I know we don’t know each other, so don’t take this the wrong way…” he trailed off._

_Curious, Clint asked “Take what the wrong way?”_

_“Are – are you doing ok?” Banner finally got out.  Clint’s mouth dropped open a little in surprise and Banner rushed to fill the silence, the words that had been stuck before spilling out of him. “It’s just, and I know it isn’t the same, but I just, after Loki…well, I know what it’s like to wake up to a disaster that you don’t remember making and…well, if you ever needed to talk, I just thought I’d offer – I mean, not that I’m implying you don’t have friends you could talk – I’m sure you’ve got lots of friends, but I just thought, well…If you needed…you could, you know.  Talk to- to me…If you want.  No pressure, I-I don’t expect that you – I just thought I’d…offer.” He finished, shrinking in on himself more and avoiding eye contact._

_Touched, Clint said “Oh.  Thanks, Doc.  I may take you up on that.” Clint wasn’t sure if he actually would take Banner up on it, but he could tell that it was difficult for the other man to reach out.  Social anxiety oozed out of the scientist and he was one of the only people who may be able to understand the guilt Clint was carrying around.  As it turned out, they hadn’t had a chance, really, to talk again.  Once the debriefs were done, Clint had been confined to base and Banner…_

Clint came back to the present with a start as he turned a corner in the vents to see a large vat of…something strange.  He put a hand to his ear to flick on his comm and said quietly “Hawkeye to base.  I’ve got some sort of large…I dunno, container?”

Stark’s voice came through the comm, his voice tinny. “By your position, it’s got to be whatever they turn into that weird white smoke they’re pumping into the apartment to keep Bruce from going full rage monster.  We should try to get a sample to analyze.”

Clint replied in a fierce whisper “You are not using this to experiment on the Doc!”  His own vehemence took him a bit by surprise, but his mind went back to the surveillance tapes.  Clearly whatever was in the white smoke, while it did keep the Hulk from emerging, also caused excruciating pain.  It was inhumane and no one deserved that.

“Whoa there, Merida, I wasn’t going to. But if we don’t know what they’ve been dosing him with, and he has some sort of long term adverse effects…”Tony trailed off meaningfully.

“Oh.  Roger that.  I’ll get a sample.” Clint returned sheepishly.  He crept over to the access panel and eased it open.  There wasn’t anyone in the room below, which was, as he suspected, a lab.  It was only the work of a moment to find some protective gear and a vial that could be vacuum sealed, find where the hose attached to the canister thing in the vent, follow it to a vat of some weird liquid, and use the spigot on the vat to fill the vial.  He put the protective gear back where he found it and secured the vial in one of his pockets before retreating back to the vents.

Since the canister thing was obviously positioned near the vents to the apartment where Banner was imprisoned, Clint knew he was going to have to circle around to get to the vent over his bathroom, but it only took a couple of minutes.  He settled in to wait for Stark to let him know when the video feed showed Banner entering the bathroom.  He didn’t have long to wait, although judging by the sound of water turning on, Banner had hopped directly into the shower.  Not wanting to surprise someone while they were naked, especially not one who could turn into the Hulk, he waited until a couple of minutes after the water turned off before he carefully moved the grate located over the shower and said through the gap.  “Pssst.  Doc – are you decent?”

He heard a small clatter in the region of the sink and Banner replied “Huh?”

“If you’re naked, cover up anything you don’t want me to see – I’m coming down.” Clint stuck his head down through the opening so Banner could see who was speaking and was glad to see the other man was dressed.

He was wearing a ratty white t shirt and sweatpants that had seen better days.  He had a towel around his neck and shaving cream slathered on his face.  The clattering sound had been him dropping his razor in the sink.  It was a surprisingly vulnerable look; there’s something awfully…domestic…about seeing another man about to shave.  He looked a bit startled to see Clint, but not nearly as much as Clint had expected.  “This is a first.” Banner said.

“What is?” Clint asked curiously.  It wasn’t exactly the reception he had been expecting.

“I mean, I would have thought the one to visit me in the shower would have been Phony Tony and not Counterfeit Clint, but apparently my delusions have decided to keep me on my toes.” Banner mumbled to himself, picking his razor up.  Meeting Clint’s eyes in the mirror, Banner addressed him. “Can you come back later Counterfeit Clint?  I’ve got to really concentrate on this so I don’t slip and cut my own throat.”

“…Counterfeit?” Oh Jesus…Banner thought he was a hallucination.  Clint lowered himself all the way down out of the vent.  He held his hands up in front of himself palms out, a universal signal of “I’m unarmed and come in peace”. He kept his voice low and steady and said “Banner, I’m not Counterfeit Clint, I’m the real deal.”

Banner didn’t turn around to face him, but rolled his eyes.  “I guess I’ve reached the next step in my descent into madness – delusions trying to convince me they’re real.”  He moved to bring his razor up to his face, hand trembling minutely.

Clint reached out and gently laid a hand Banner’s arm before the scientist sliced himself open.  “I know you must be wondering what took us so long –“ Clint started, but before he could say more Banner spun towards him abruptly, eyes wide.  Clint turned his light touch into a firmer grip to keep Banner from losing his balance.

“I-I-I…You-you’re touching me.” Banner stammered, wild-eyed, eyes darting back and forth between Clint’s face and the grip Clint had on his arm.

Steadily, Clint replied “Yeah.  Sorry I’m late.”  The left corner of his mouth turned up in a tiny grin.

Banner’s eyes rolled back in his head and he toppled over into a dead faint.  Clint managed to maneuver himself underneath the scientist so he didn’t crack his head.  “Shit.” 

From his new position sitting on the floor, he reached into the shower to snag the damp washcloth hanging over the edge to dry.  He squirmed a bit until Banner’s head was in his lap rather than at the awkward angle it had ended up after the fall, and used the damp cloth to try to gently bring the other man around.

***

Bruce could feel himself returning to consciousness slowly, struggling to remember what had brought about the most recent Smoke Attack.  Why couldn’t he remember?  His eyes still closed, he began his usual post-attack mental checklist, which mostly consisted of concentrating on each part of his body from the toes up individually to figure out if any part of him was in more pain than normal – there were a few times when he’d managed to fall funny and sprain his wrist or whack his head and get a minor concussion.  But this time…this time, the strange thing was each part of him felt less pain than normal instead of more – maybe they were getting better at manufacturing whatever was in the smoke? – but suddenly he realized he could feel something damp touching his head – and it was moving.

His eyes fluttered open to find Clint Barton hovering directly above him, gently dabbing his face and neck with a damp washcloth.  “What…?” Bruce managed.  Bits and pieces returned to him, and his face grew hot as he realized his head wasn’t on the cold tile, but rather settled in Barton’s lap.

The washcloth stilled and Barton’s face split into a relieved grin.  “Mornin’ sunshine!” he teased. 

Bruce’s hand seemed to move of its own volition as he reached up and touched Barton’s face.  He could feel the warmth of the other man under the prickle of his stubble.  “You- you’re real…” He stuttered, dropping his hand back down.

Compassion filled Barton’s eyes and he nodded in confirmation. “Yeah man, I’m real.”

“How – why – what – um…are you here to visit?” Bruce asked, mind scrambling to figure out how and why Barton would have come through the vents.  Barton was an Agent of SHIELD…if he was coming to visit, if they were finally allowing him contact with the outside world, why wouldn’t he have just come in the front door?

“Visit?” Barton looked confused.

“Did…did SHIELD…am I allowed…um, are you here because…because I can have visitors now?”  He knew he should be playing his cards closer to the vest, that he shouldn’t let anyone know how much it would mean to him if he could talk to someone real from time to time, maybe play cards, or just know for sure that someone he knew, anyone at all, knew where he was.  He knew that his expression was so filled with hope it was almost manic because he was just that desperate for any sort of contact.

Barton winced briefly and said gently, “No, Doc, I’m not here to visit.”

Bruce heard a pathetic whimpering noise and it took him a second to realize it was coming from himself.  _You’re having a panic attack, Bruce._   He drew in a shuddering breath that felt like he was sucking air in through a straw.  He was burning up with humiliation as tears gathered in the corners of his eyes as he tried to get himself under control.

“Hey, hey, no, Doc, I didn’t mean – aw, fuck, this is why I shouldn’t be allowed out, I’m no good with words…”Barton looked upset.  “It’s okay, Doc, just breathe with me.  You’re having a panic attack.  In in in, out out out, in in in, out out out.”  Bruce became aware that Barton was stroking his hair in time with his words, clearly hoping the touch would help.

The feeling of someone else’s hands carding through his hair was something Bruce never realized he had been missing.  It was soothing and grounding and helped him come back to himself, much faster than he had ever calmed down from panic before.  The tears in his eyes started to spill over and he squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he could to stem the tide.  He took a few more shaky breaths with the archer, but the tightness in his chest and the feeling of his throat closing up was already gone.  When he was sure he was on the other side of the panic attack, he opened his eyes again. 

Barton’s face was very white, and he was biting his lip, his eyebrows furrowed in a deep v, his grey-blue eyes full of concern.  His hand was still moving through Bruce’s hair, although he didn’t seem to be aware of that.  “How ya doing? You ok now, Doc?”

Humiliation roared through his veins, but Bruce tried to focus.  He cleared his throat nervously and replied “Y-yeah, I’m ok.  Sorry.”

Barton let out a tiny, relieved sigh.  “Thank god, they will kill me if I fuck this up before we even get started.”

“Wh-what are you talking about?” Bruce couldn’t keep the post-panic-attack shakes from overtaking his limbs.

Barton looked – embarrassed? _That can’t be right…_ Bruce thought to himself. _I’ve been away from the world too long, I obviously can’t recognize facial expressions any more._

Barton replied, “I – I fucked it up, before.  When I said I wasn’t here for a visit.  It’s…I’m not, not exactly.  You have to understand, Doc, I didn’t – no, _we_ didn’t know.”

Confused, Bruce replied “Didn’t know?”

“We didn’t know that they’d taken you, that they were keeping you here.  Me and the other Avengers.” Barton ducked his head, breaking eye contact.  “I – I’m so sorry, Doc, you gotta know, you gotta believe me – we should’ve…no, _I_ should’ve figured it out earlier and I am so so sorry.”

“What?” Bruce felt that desperate hope fluttering in his chest again.  “You mean, you guys didn’t…didn’t think that…” He trailed off, not sure he wanted to know the answer, but forging ahead after a deep breath. “You guys didn’t think that, well that this, this is where I should be? You – you don’t think it’s for the best, you know, that I’m not out there, in the world?”

Barton’s eyes snapped back to his, the hand that wasn’t in his hair moved to seize one of his in a tight grip.  “Absolutely not.”  There was steel behind the archer’s words and his eyes were serious.  Fiercely, he continued “Not a single one of us thinks that, Doc.  The world is better with you in it and even if it wasn’t, nobody deserves this. Nobody.”  He squeezed Bruce’s hand tight to underscore his words, then released it.

Bruce swallowed hard, venturing “Um, so, um, what-what are you here for?”

Barton’s expression brightened, a twinkle in his eye, that grin breaking across his face again.  “Isn’t it obvious, Doc? I’m here because we’re gonna break you outta this joint. This is the beginning of a prison break.”

It took all of Bruce’s willpower to not burst into tears, but he had already humiliated himself enough for one night and he managed to tamp it down. “Oh.” He managed, in a tiny voice.

“So whaddaya say, Doc, are you okay to sit up?” Barton asked.

Flushing, Bruce scrambled to sit up as fast as he could, Barton’s hand falling away from his hair.  Bruce felt oddly bereft.

“Whoa whoa whoa, Doc, take it easy.  Don’t rush it - you _did_ just pass out, you’ll get dizzy.” Barton looked concerned.

He wasn’t wrong; the head rush Bruce got when he had moved so quickly had his vision swimming a bit.  “It’s…I’m okay, just give me a minute.”  They sat on the floor for a few minutes until Bruce was feeling a bit less shaky.  “So…How are we getting out of here?”

Grinning, Barton replied “Short version? The vents.”  He got to his feet, stretching up towards the vent.  “In fact, I should get back – “

Bruce felt like his heart was in a vice.  Lurching to his feet, he seized a handful of Barton’s shirt.  “Please.” His voice broke and he hated himself for begging, but he couldn’t help it.  “Please don’t leave me here alone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> During Clint's flashback to first meeting Bruce, I used quotes from the movie. Obviously, I didn't write the dialogue.
> 
> Clint and Bruce finally end up face to face! And it only took like 13k words to get there! I had intended to finish the rescue in this chapter, but clearly the characters got away from me again.
> 
> One of the first scenes I envisioned when this plot bunny got stuck in my head was Clint coming in through the vents to rescue Bruce while he's shaving and having Bruce assume it was a hallucination until Clint touches him, at which point Bruce faints. It sprung into my head almost fully formed and it was really fun finally getting to write it. I hope you like it!
> 
> All comments and kudos are much appreciated!


	4. Prison Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the rescue finally happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made some very minor tweaks to the earlier chapters, mostly just a few misplaced commas, but nothing substantive. It's been so long since I started writing this chapter that I'd had to reread everything to make sure I had it right and found some typos along the way.
> 
> I didn't intend on taking so long to finish this chapter - in fact most of it was written right after the last one, but there was a transition scene I was stuck on and then life got in the way. Hopefully updates will be coming much quicker!
> 
> I've been loving all of your comments and kudos - please continue to comment if you're enjoying this :-)

** Chapter 4: Prison Break **

Things in Clint’s life never really went according to plan.  After his parents died, he certainly hadn’t _planned_ to run away with his brother and join the circus – that was his brother’s idea.  He hadn’t _planned_ to become Hawkeye, the World’s Best Marksman – one of the members of the circus decided to take him on as an apprentice.  And he _certainly_ never planned to end up betrayed by his brother and left for dead, only to end up an Agent of SHIELD.  Recruiting Natasha? Not a plan.  Budapest? Definitely not a plan.  That whole Loki mind control thing?  Also not a plan.

So it really shouldn’t be a shock to him that this rescue was not precisely following the plan Tony had come up with.  He had been at least a little prepared for Banner to need some time to get over the surprise of having him just appear in the bathroom, but even though Nat had mentioned the possibility that Banner had been hallucinating, he never expected that _he_ might be one of those hallucinations.  Or that Banner wouldn’t believe he was real until he touched him.  Or that laying a hand on his arm would lead to an honest-to-god fainting spell.

Before he knew it, he was sitting on the floor of the tiny bathroom with a lapful of unconscious physicist.  When the other man had come to, Clint had immediately fucked everything up by saying the wrong thing.  He really shouldn’t be allowed to speak to anyone ever.  Before he knew it, he was (poorly) coaching Banner through the panic attack he had caused.  It wouldn’t occur to him until later that stroking a hand through Banner’s hair may have been a weird thing to do, but it did seem to help settle him down, and once he started, he couldn’t seem to stop running his fingers through the soft brown curls until Banner sat up.  As his hand fell away, Clint’s brain kicked back in gear and he realized that this had already taken longer than he had intended, so after making sure Banner wasn’t going to pass out again, he stood.

“So…How are we getting out of here?” Banner was asking.

Clint smiled at him, replying “Short version? The vents.” He reached for the opening, intending to retreat into said vents so that he could report back to the others.  The apartment was shielded from communications, so there was no way to let them know what was going on and he’d been down here long enough they were probably worried. “In fact, I should get back -” The rest of the sentence died in his throat as Banner surged upward unsteadily, grabbing a handful of his shirt, eyes wide and frantic.

“Please.” Banner begged, his voice breaking.  “Please don’t leave me here alone.”

Shocked, Clint just stared down for a moment at the hand clutching his shirt so tightly, the knuckles were white.  Raising his eyes to Banner’s face, he realized that it was still mostly covered in shaving cream, but underneath it had gone ghostly pale.  Banner was trembling so hard Clint was afraid he was going to end up on the ground again.  Putting his hands on Banner’s shoulders, he spoke in what he was hoping was a soothing voice.  “Okay, Doc. Okay. Let’s just talk a bit first, yeah?”

Banner drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly, squeezing his eyes shut.  When he opened them, he looked embarrassed. “S-sorry, I…” He trailed off, eyes downcast.

“It’s okay.” Clint assured him. “I’m no good at this part, they should have sent somebody else, but Nat was afraid that her showing up would cause all sorts of negative associations from the last time, Tony “doesn’t do that John McClane-crawling-through-air-ducts-shit” – direct quote – and Steve is too big to fit in the vents, so I was the best bet, but I keep fucking it up.”

“You’re not.  Fucking it up, that is, it’s me. I…I just…” Banner trailed off again, shrugging a shoulder.

“You’re fine.  Let me just explain some things.  It’s actually what I came here to tell you, but then I freaked you out and, well.  Today was supposed to be a bit of recon, first contact with you, and then report back so we can hash out the rest of the plan.  We weren’t sure exactly what shape we would find you in, and we couldn’t know what sorts of problems we may run into on the way out without doing some in person scouting.”

Banner let out a short, bitter chuckle. “Mid nervous breakdown is the shape I’m in.”

“Aw, Doc, that’s not what I meant.  We’ve…seen some of the surveillance footage and whatever’s in that smoke, it seems like it hurts you.  A lot.  We weren’t sure if you’d be injured too badly to go through the vents and if that was the case, we were going to need to rethink our strategy.”

“Oh.” Banner flushed.  “Well, I’d need help, um, getting up there.  But I’m not injured.”

Clint narrowed his eyes.  “But you’re in pain.  I can tell from the way you hold yourself.”

Banner’s mouth quirked into a tiny smile.  “It’s…not that bad.  I’ve gotten used to it.”

Clearly, he thought that would reassure Clint, but instead it just made his heart break a little bit.  Clint had the sudden, wild urge to wrap Banner up in as many blankets as he could find and stuff him full of comfort food and tell him no one was ever going to touch him again, but instead he just said “Okay.”

Banner looked a little relieved, since that meant they were going to go with Rescue Plan A. “So, what next?”

Clint said slowly, “Well…I need to check in with the team.  And you’ve been in here too long.  They may start to notice and decide to pre-emptively gas you, which we definitely don’t want.”  Banner’s shoulders started to tense under his hands and he squeezed gently, “I won’t go very far, I promise.” It wasn’t what Clint had intended to say, but as soon as they came out of his mouth, he realized he meant them.  He couldn’t leave the Doc alone, not after what he’d seen.

Banner’s eyes searched his face for evidence he was lying.  “You-you really promise?”

“Yeah Doc, I really promise.  I just need to go up in the vents to get a signal and you’ll have to go back out there.  But the surveillance cameras don’t record sound, so we can still talk, okay?  I’ll be right above you.”  Clint kept his voice low and his eyes steady.

Banner took another one of his deep-breath-eyes-closed breaks, then nodded decisively.  “Okay.”

“Okay, great, so you just - Wait, shit.  You never finished shaving.” Clint remembered, biting his lip.  “I know it’s important for your routine, like meditation, but I don’t think your hands are going to be steady enough.”

The tips of Banner’s ears turned red and he glared at his right hand, which trembled violently, as though it was personally betraying him.  Clint noticed with a start that his left hand was still tangled in Clint’s shirtfront. “Goddammit.” Banner muttered.

“So…is it more important that you do the shaving yourself or that your face gets shaved?” Clint asked.

“What?” Banner looked befuddled.

“I mean, for the meditational aspect.  Because the choices here are either you go without shaving your face or I shave it for you.” Clint told him succinctly.  “What’s your poison, Doc?”

“I-I, you, what?” Banner was clearly not expecting the offer, and shook himself a second before saying more coherently “Um, you- you don’t have to do that.”

Gently, Clint replied “That’s not what I asked. Not sure it makes a difference, but even if I’m best with arrows, I’m pretty good with anything sharp and pointy.”

Banner face flamed under the shaving cream, which Clint noted was a much better look than the ghostly pale it had been a few minutes before. “Ummm, okay then…I guess-I guess you should do it.”

Clint guided him over to sit on the closed lid of the toilet, picked up the razor, and tilted Banner’s face up with gentle fingers so he could get started.  Banner blinked up at him owlishly, and he realized just how vulnerable the physicist’s position was – he was literally holding a sharp blade to his throat.  Clint swallowed hard as the domesticity of the moment struck him, but he pushed the thought way.  What the hell was with him lately?  He didn’t have time to examine any feelings he had at the moment, so he just got a move on. 

He moved the razor in deliberate, slow strokes down Banner’s face, rinsing the blade in the sink, then shaking off the excess water, keeping the rhythm as steady as possible.  Stroke, rinse, shake.  He kept the other hand on Banner’s face, using it to guide him into position. Stroke, rinse, shake.  He figured keeping the rhythm steady would help with the meditation. Stroke, rinse, shake.  Throughout the weirdly intimate exercise, Banner’s eyes remained locked on Clint, as if he was hypnotized. Stroke, rinse, shake.

Faster than he expected, he was done.  He wiped the last vestiges of shaving cream off Banner’s face with the corner of the damp washcloth from earlier that he had somehow draped over his shoulder (when the hell had he done that?), patted Banner on the shoulder, and said in an unexpectedly hoarse voice “There. Done.”

Banner blinked, startled, like he hadn’t realized the razor wasn’t still moving against his skin, and said softly. “Oh, um, thanks….I, um, I guess you should, uh, go now. Up there, I mean.”  He nodded towards the opening of the vent.  He was staring up at Clint, looking a little lost.

Reluctantly, Clint nodded in agreement, but didn’t move away.  Banner regarded him quizzically, and he said, glancing down. “Uh, Doc? I can’t go anywhere if you don’t let go of my shirt.”

Stunned, Banner followed his gaze and seem to notice for the first time that his hand was still clutching tight to Clint’s shirt. “Oh.” Sheepishly, Banner struggled to release his death grip.  It took a minute for his fingers to comply, since he’d been holding on so hard.  The material of Clint’s shirt was a little deformed from the experience and Banner absently tried to smooth out the wrinkles with his other hand.  That is, until he realized what he was doing and froze, blushing madly.  “Sorry.”

Clint’s mouth had gone dry the second Banner had started brushing the fabric over his stomach so that it would lie flat.  He cleared his throat and said, “No problem, man. I’m gonna…” He pointed up.  He waited for Banner to nod before doing anything else.

“How are you going to –“ Banner was saying, as Clint leaped up, grabbed the edge of the opening, and levered himself back into the vents.  Clint stuck his head down and saw the frozen look of amazement on Banner’s face.

“Didn’t ya know, Doc?  I was in the circus.”  He winked.

***

Bruce gaped up at Barton in shock.  He had leaped _from the floor_ up into the vents in what had appeared to be a single smooth movement.  Now, to be fair, the ceiling was only about a foot above the archer’s outstretched fingers and he had grabbed onto the edges, so it wasn’t like he actually flew up there or anything.  But the movement had been so fluid and graceful, he might as well have.

Bruce may have stood there forever staring up at the vents if Barton hadn’t stuck his head out and teased “Didn’t ya know, Doc? I was in the circus.” And then he winked. _Winked_.  What kind of grown man winks at people?  And why was Bruce finding it…sort of comforting?  Bruce was pretty sure he had never been winked at before, and if he had been asked before now how he thought he’d feel about being winked at, he never would have said it would be comforting, but then he has been starved for company lately.  That must be it.

Shaking his head to clear out the weird thoughts, Bruce replied “Uh, no, I was not aware.  But it explains a lot.”

Grinning, Barton told him “Go on, Doc.  You should head back out and do whatever it is you normally do.  I’ll be right up here if you need me.”

“Right.” Bruce nodded once, then headed back out into the main room of the apartment.

He puttered around the kitchen, heating up some canned soup and making some tea.  He put both into mugs, set them down on the coffee table, turned on the tv, and settled into his spot on the couch to eat.

It was lucky that his usual routine involved him staring unfocused in the direction of the television without really paying attention to it, because at the moment it was all he could do.  His mind was racing over the events of the last half hour and there was no way he could concentrate on anything else.

He wasn’t alone any more. His team had come for him.  His mind kept repeating these two facts over and over ad nauseum until finally, he believed it. 

He had thought that, as agents of SHIELD, Romanov and Barton would have known about his…incarceration and the fact that no one had come had led him to the conclusion that the team had agreed with SHIELD – that everyone was safer with him locked up.  Or at the very least that the Smoke Attacks were SHIELD’s plan of finding a way to make sure he would be safe if they ever let him out.

And then out of the blue, Barton showed up and he wasn’t alone any more.  His team had come for him.  Bruce heaved out a massive sigh and felt lighter than he had in months.  He wasn’t alone any more.  His team had come for him.

He managed to keep from letting out a giddy laugh, since it wouldn’t really be in character and there were still cameras on him.  Barton had apologized; the team hadn’t known he was here.  Did that mean that SHIELD wasn’t responsible? Or that SHIELD had decided Barton and Romanov shouldn’t know?  Maybe Pierce had lied about being affiliated with SHIELD; it wasn’t as though he’d had a chance to ask for ID before they sedated him.  He had a lot of questions, but they could all wait until he and Barton were away from here.

For the first time in months, Bruce was having difficulty keeping his mind blank as he stared in the vague direction of the television.  It was as if Barton’s appearance had jump started his brain.  But he was worried if he focused on their pending escape, he would end up in a mild state of panic which would be noticeable to his watchers.  Instead, he let his mind wander back over the events since the archer had appeared.  Had things not spiraled off the plan the way they had, perhaps he would still be convinced that Barton was one of his hallucinations.  After all, one of his team showing up to tell him they were rescuing him was the thing he had been telling himself he wasn’t expecting, but in his secret heart of hearts, he had longed for it.  But in his wildest imaginings, he never would have thought Barton would show up and be anything less than smooth.

In all of their previous interactions, while it was clear that Barton was struggling, he came across as the kind of person who was great with other people in a way that Bruce himself was not.  The version of Barton that Bruce had been hallucinating never would have put his foot in his mouth the way the real Barton had, but he also wouldn’t have been physically affectionate in the same way either – not that Bruce’s hallucinations could make physical contact – but his physicality was unexpected.  Bruce had mostly interacted with the other man during the immediate aftermath of battle, so it stood to reason he hadn’t yet been exposed to Barton’s compassionate side.  For all that Barton was convinced he wasn’t good with words, once Bruce had given him a chance to explain he said what Bruce wanted to hear the most.  _The world is better with you in it_ echoed in Bruce’s mind as he recalled the fierceness of the archer’s gaze and his grip on Bruce’s hand.

There had been an awful lot of touching going on in that bathroom, possibly more than Bruce had been touched in…god, he couldn’t even remember. From the first gentle hand on his arm to the careful fingers guiding the tilt of his chin while the razor was dragged across his stubble, there was hardly a moment where they hadn’t been touching in some fashion.  Bruce’s cheeks heated as he recalled how his own hand was fisted in Barton’s shirt almost the entire time.  And if his thoughts lingered on the quiet intimacy of having another man shave his face, well, no one needed to know.

***

As soon as Clint was back in the vents, Nat’s voice came over the comm.  “Sitrep?”

“Physically, he’s okay.  We’ll be able to get him out through the vents, no problem.” Clint replied immediately. 

“And otherwise?” Nat replied.

Clint blew out a sigh.  “Fuck, Nat, he thought I was a hallucination and when he realized I wasn’t, he fainted. I always thought fainting from shock was something writers used for dramatic effect, but he wasn’t faking.  And then when he came ‘round, I pretty much immediately caused a panic attack by sticking my foot in my mouth.  He asked if I was there for a visit…because he thought we knew where he was and agreed with the decision to keep him locked up for everyone’s safety.  He was just happy he was going to be allowed a visitor, only like an idiot I told him I wasn’t there to visit and…well.  He was pretty panic-stricken when I went to head back into the vents again too.  He begged me not to leave him alone. And I can’t.  So I’m staying until your end of the prison break is ready.  And it better be soon, because there’s no telling when the next time they’ll gas him is going to be.”

Tony must have stolen the microphone from Nat, because the next thing he knew, Stark was replying “We’ll be ready in three hours. Just keep him safe till then.”

It took them another ten or so minutes to actually hash out a plan, which mainly consisted of Stark looping the video footage once Bruce was “asleep” for the night and waiting for the cover of darkness on the outside so that the quinjet could land someplace very close by, that way they didn’t have far to go once they exited the vents.

*

“Psst. Doc, don’t look up, but I’m right above you. I spoke to the team to confirm – we are definitely vamoosing tonight.” Clint had parked himself in the vent right above the couch, figuring it was the best place to wait.

Banner must have been steeling himself for news, because he didn’t flinch at Clint’s voice.  Softly, he replied “I thought you weren’t ready for the prison break yet?  Wasn’t today just supposed to be recon?”

“Yeah well, I’ve never been great at following plans. Or waiting.” Clint replied. “We’re out of here in a couple hours. Just have to wait for the sun to set.  So, since we’ve got time to kill, which is your favorite Kardashian?”

Banner’s shoulders relaxed infinitesimally and Clint could hear the fake glare in his voice when he replied “You know I haven’t actually been watching the show, right?”

***

 _We’re escaping tonight.  I’ll be back in the Tower tonight.  I’ll be free tonight._ The words swirled around and around in Bruce’s brain.  Barton was good at being a distraction and keeping Bruce from letting the knowledge sit too long.  Before he knew it, Barton was telling him to follow his normal bedtime routine.

“Once Tony has looped the footage of you sleeping on the couch, I’ll let you know.  You can meet me back in the bathroom and I’ll pull you up.”

For once, things went according to plan.  Tony’s looped footage was uploaded and then the next thing Bruce knew, he was staring up through the opening in the bathroom vent.  “How am I going to get up there?”

Barton hung his head and one arm down.  “I’m going to pull you up.  Reach up and grab my forearm with both hands.  I’ll count to three, you bounce up a bit, and I’ll use the momentum to pull you up the rest of the way.”

Bruce replied dubiously, “Are you sure you can lift me one handed? I know I’m not a big guy, but I’m not that small, either.”

Barton grinned at him “Aw, Doc, dontcha trust me?  I swear, I won’t drop you.”

A smile pulled at the corner of Bruce’s mouth.  “Alright, on three.” 

Bruce should not have doubted the strength of Barton’s arms.  In spite of the difficulty of lifting another grown man from the ground into a ceiling vent, he barely seemed to break a sweat.

“Wow.  I really didn’t think…just wow.” Bruce stared at the other man once he was safely ensconced in the vent. 

Barton’s wink was barely visible in the dim light as he sing-songed “Circus!”

“What now?” Bruce queried.

“Now, you follow me to freedom Doc.  We’ve got to follow this vent around the corner down there, and then follow it to the end.  We’ll come out on the south side of the building and then hightail it to the quinjet which is currently hidden behind the neighbor’s fence.  Ready?”

Bruce just nodded wordlessly.  He was too overcome to put any words together sensibly, so he figured not saying anything was his best bet.

***

Clint spent the entire trek through the vents convinced they were going to be found.  He wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself when he got to their exit point without running into any distractions.  He had Banner wait for him briefly while he scouted the outside, but the way was clear.  He knocked out the rhythm they had agreed on and Banner’s curly head poked out immediately. 

It was slightly worrisome that the doc hadn’t said a word since they had left the vent right above his bathroom; while it was good that he was following directions well, Clint wasn’t sure the total silence and complete docility were a good sign.  A slight breeze blew by and Banner let out a tiny noise that may have been a whimper. Clint held out a hand to help him down from the head height exit vent.  “Come on, Doc, the great outdoors awaits.”

When Banner reached the ground, his legs buckled almost immediately and only the hand Clint had on his elbow kept him on his feet. “Whoa, Doc, are you alright?”

The other man nodded, turning his head to look everywhere.  It wasn’t until he raised his head to gaze up at the stars in the sky and Clint noticed the sheen of tears in his eyes.  Fuck, how could he have forgotten the doc hadn’t been outside for almost five months?

“There’s nothin’ more gorgeous than the sky on a clear night, is there?” Clint murmured. 

Banner nodded shakily once, then seemed to pull himself together.  He took two deep breaths and then inclined his head to the left. 

“Yeah, it’s that way.  You ready?” Clint waited for his nod, then put a finger to his lips.  “Okay, from now till we’re in the quinjet, we’re churchmice.  Stick as close to me as you can, yeah?”

Clint was shocked at quickly and easily they made it to the jet; his biometrics opened the cargo bay doors and he ushered Banner in before they were even open all the way.  He kept a weather eye out until they were safely closed again, then activated his comm. “All clear Widow, ready for take off.”

“Affirmative, Hawkeye.” was Nat’s only reply, and only he would be able to hear the relief in her voice.

He turned to the physicist on his left and said “What’d I tell ya, Doc? Piece of cake.”  The grin on Clint’s face dimmed as he saw just how much the other man was trembling. “Aw, Doc, that’ll just be the adrenaline crash.  C’mon, come sit down over here – lemme just find the go bag I got stashed…ah, here it is.” He pulled out the bow and quiver from on top and dug around to find his favorite hoodie.  It was the cuddly one he’d been wearing the night he’d first seen the surveillance room at SHIELD HQ and he handed it to Banner.  “Put that on, it’ll help.”

Banner was still shaking pretty hard, so Clint led him to one of the seats on the side and sat him down.  Clint knelt in front of him, rubbing his hands up and down Banner’s upper arms to warm him up a bit, and began to talk in a low, steady voice.  “Doc, you’re safe now.  You’re on one of Stark’s quinjets. We’re already miles and miles away from where they were keeping you.  Nat is piloting and while she’s no me, she’s still pretty damn amazing.  We’ll be back at the Tower before you know it and then we’ll get some good hot food in you before bed.  No one is going to let them take you back. Ever.  I promise.  You know, I bet there’s coffee on board somewhere, I can go get it – or not, you don’t look like you like that plan mu-“ Clint’s words were cut off when the door from the rest of the plane into the cargo hold burst open and slammed against the wall.

After that, several things happened at once. Banner made a strangled sound in fear, throwing himself off the seat. Clint had spun around, scooping up his bow and an arrow from his quiver.  It was nocked and pointed at the intruder before they even had the chance to yell “BRUCE!” as they rushed in.

Clint had placed himself between the doc and what he had assumed was danger, but instead was an overly enthusiastic Tony Stark.  Banner, meanwhile, was now cowering behind him clutching the back of his shirt. 

Tony’s enthusiasm dimmed slightly when he noticed the arrow pointed at his face. “Dammit, Barton, point that someplace else!”

Clint slowly relaxed his hold. “Jesus Christ, Tony, do you have a death wish? You’re freaking out the doc.”

“I’m not freaking him out. Bruce tell him!” Tony’s smile was so big, it looked manic and he darted towards them, probably to give Banner a hug or something, but Banner let out a tiny distressed noise at the sudden movement and startled backwards further into the corner.  The grip on the back of Clint’s shirt hadn’t lessened and he had to take a small step back as well.

“Oh.” Tony deflated a bit. “Right, probably shouldn’t be rushing at you like a crazed fan so soon after…anyway, uh, I have some stuff I gotta, uh, there’s things in the cockpit, I’ll just-“ and he rushed off back out the door.

Banner released Clint’s shirt and by the time he had turned around, the doc was sitting again, all hunched in on himself, legs pulled up on the seat and arms around his shins, his chin resting on his bent knees.  Slowly, he raised his eyes to meet Clint’s and the archer could see the guilt in them.  “Hey, no, it’s okay.” Clint patted his shoulder consolingly. “Tony’s just, uh, well you know him.  By the time we’re back at the Tower, he’ll be figuring out some other way to welcome you home that will be less, uh, abrupt.  Well, most likely.  He’s not offended, he just felt bad for startling you and doesn’t really do apologies like us regular folk.”

Banner’s mouth twitched into the ghost of a smile.

A moment later, JARVIS’ voice came over the intercom. “Excuse me sirs, we are approaching the Tower.  Please strap yourself in for landing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes are finally in the same place for a whole chapter, being all cute with their burgeoning feels.
> 
> And poor Tony is all sad his bff is afraid of him.
> 
> I was going to have more of the rest of the team in this chapter, but felt like this was a good cut off point and also didn't want to make anyone who is following this fic wait any longer for an update.
> 
> Next chapter will feature more of the rest of the team as well as some recovery struggles now that Bruce is safe.
> 
> Thank you to everyone for their kudos and comments - it's definitely helped me to keep the fic in mind even when it doesn't seem like it.
> 
> Please feel free to drop me a line if you have questions or thoughts - comments are always welcome :-)


End file.
